


I'D LIKE TO

by throughemptyquarters



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Depression, Drug Dealer, Implied Suicide Attempt, Schizophrenia, Self-Harm, Theories, Train of Thought, Vomiting, Weirdness, implied panic attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 07:55:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21296102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throughemptyquarters/pseuds/throughemptyquarters
Summary: The first weeks in his new home, if you can call a dingy, fifty-five square metre apartment like that, had been occupied by Josh’s theories, about what kind of person his housemate was.
Relationships: Josh Dun & Tyler Joseph
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	I'D LIKE TO

**Author's Note:**

> The original work was in Italian (If you want to read it I published it, too) because English isn't my first language.  
Spread_your_wings02, thank you very much for helping me with grammar! You're lovely :)

The first weeks in his new home, if you can call a dingy, fifty-five square metre apartment like that, had been occupied by Josh’s theories, about what kind of person his housemate was. 

Schemes drawn on his brain, subtle glances during non-working hours (not that he had many, to be honest), assumptions from the movements of that quiet lodger who, sometimes, stopped to glare at those prying eyes which followed him everywhere.

It’s not like he was that interesting as an individual to observe, but Josh was bored.

There were times when Tyler simply ignored him, he kept on going with what he was doing. Hanging the laundry on that tiny windowsill that faced the polluted road. Picking up the same laundry, dirtier than before, reeking from gasoline and exhaust fumes. Warming some pre-cooked food in the microwave.

There were times, however, when Tyler snapped at him annoyed, with his ears that seemed on fire.

«What?»

«_“What”_ what?»

«You’re staring at me»

«Yeah, I am»

However it went, the conversation ended with Tyler slamming the door, disappearing in his room for the next four hours. And Josh sighed.

Josh sighed because, he was certain, Tyler was depressed. He wore the same clothes every day. There could have been a blazing sun or an overnight rainfall that let the frozen drafts into the house (between August and September, the temperature used to drastically drop and then rise in a few hours), Tyler would have worn those hoodies with stretched hems and those grey, psychiatric hospital style sweatpants anyway. No wonder the smell was not the best, a mixture of sweat and takeaway food. However, that was the scent that lingered in almost the whole flat and Josh got used to it already.

Tyler didn’t talk. Tyler was often locked in his room. Tyler always ate the same things. Tyler always watched the same programs on television.

Tyler was depressed.

______

In the early days of October, Tyler wasn’t depressed anymore. Not at all. _Tyler_, in fact, Josh stated, _was schizophrenic. _Undoubtedly.

Josh certainly didn’t have a degree in Medicine or a PhD in Psychiatric Sciences but what use is it if there’s Internet? A search on Google had been enough to diagnose him: a prodromal stage of schizophrenia.

When there were no phones or televisions, boredom manifested itself as visions of creatures wandering around castles - or narrow streets populated by insomniacs drunks - ready to steal your soul and give it to Satan. Now, boredom emerged in detected pathologies in neighbors. Well, as they say, _ times change. _

_“__People_ _with_ _schizophrenia_ _may_ _experience_ _auditory_ _hallucinations,__”_

_ «_Tyler, I bought fries on my way home from work. Do you want some?»

«Thanks»

«Did you do anything interesting today?»

«What are you doing, Josh?»

«Making conversation?»

«Well, stop it. Please.» Tyler was massaging his temples with his eyes closed.

«Everything okay?»

«Migraine. And this fucking fly won’t leave me alone»

«Tyler» The boy was fretting more and more, hitting his own head in an attempt to swat away the insect.

«Tyler, stop. There are no flies here»

Now, the buzzing could have been an effect of the headache, it wouldn’t have been that unusual. But Josh didn’t want to know, it would have destroyed his theories.

“_paranoid delusions,_”

«Did you poke around in my things?» Tyler was leaning on the kitchen table with the palms of his hands, watching Josh with slightly terrified eyes.

«Why are you asking?»

«Did you poke around in my things?»

«No. I can smell piss coming out of your bedroom. I’d prefer to have my hands cut off rather than touch your junk»

Tyler turned his back without saying anything else, letting the thoughts of the boy behind him run wild.

And then again. Along the way to the city, Tyler was continuing to look at the car behind them. Josh had offered to drive him, but he had regretted it once they took the main road.

«Jesus, can you stop turning continuously? You're getting on my nerves» Josh liked driving, but it didn't take much to make him edgy.

«I think they’re following us»

«It’s Friday, everyone goes downtown during the weekend. You would know that if you got out sometimes»

«I am _out_»

_ «_Going to the dentist doesn’t count»

«_Josh._ That car is following us.»

«And what do you want to do? Walk down and ask them to change road?»

«Let’s go home.»

«What? We’re almost here, Tyler»

«Turn around. _Now_.»

And Josh turned around, but not without some profanity muttered through his teeth.

“_and disorganized thinking and speech.”_

«Do you know where my black shoes are?» Josh was for the first time standing at the Tyler’s room door. Actually, it wasn’t the first time he sneaked in. He had explored that boring, half-empty room, four times already, taking advantage of the corresponding occupant’s absence. But he had never found anything interesting.

«W-what?»

«My shoes. Am I interrupting something?» Tyler had pushed himself against the wall, holding a pillow to his chest.

«Could you leave?»

«I just want to know where my shoes are, Tyler»

«What? I don’t- I don’t know where-»

«Are you okay? You don’t need to freak out, I masturbate too»

«I- I wasn’t- Could you leave?»

«Tyler» The boy had started to wheeze, slurring random words.

«Could you leave?»

And Josh left.

It was obvious, _obvious_, that Tyler was a schizophrenic nutcase. Josh, in fact, wondered why he hadn’t figured it out sooner.

______

No, Tyler wasn’t schizophrenic. Sure, he was tight as a drum and so paranoid that Josh doubted he hadn’t anything to do with a suspicious activity. But certainly he wasn’t suffering from a mental disorder of that dimension.

Let us be clear, Josh may have seemed a maniac capable of going through your search history to find personal information about you. However, he was only a harmless pain in the ass who couldn’t deal with boredom. He had lived in a family of six – all of whom he boringly knew too well - for years. And there was no place for the excess. He certainly wouldn’t have got more attention if he had an outgoing, curious and charming personality. He was Josh Dun, the firstborn of Laura Lee and William Earl Dun, nothing more and nothing less. It wasn’t worth toiling.

But then Tyler had been an opportunity for him to be who he wanted to be: an indiscreet son of a bitch.

At the end of November Tyler wasn’t affected by any pathology. Indeed, he was involved in narcotics trafficking. That was the reason why his housemate used to stay locked in his room for ages, went to the grocery store with a suspicious backpack at odd hours, stayed at home most of the time, and have enough money to buy twenty-seven dollars worth of red meat - instead of the one dollar and 59 cents canned chicken Josh used to take - without worrying about it.

One morning he had found Tyler with an unhealed wound on his throat. A gash from under his ear to his windpipe, too messy not to have been made from a human hand. The weird discussion of the night before confirmed his suspicions.

«Josh» Tyler had appeared at the door of Josh’ bedroom, leaning on the frame.

«Mmh» He mumbled without even lifting his head from the pillow. It was 2:07 in the morning and he had to get up to go to work in four hours.

«_Josh_»

«Let me sleep, Tyler»

«_Please_» The desperate tone made Josh turn around to the hunched and tensed body. Tyler’s frightened eyes were staring at his bed_._

«What’s wrong? Are you alright?» The question knocked him out and suddenly he looked like he was trying to find an excuse which could explain that odd situation.

«I’m fine. I need the money of this month’s rent»

«And you fucking couldn’t wait until tomorrow to tell me that?»

«Right. Of course, you’re right. Goodnight Josh»

Under normal circumstances, he would’ve stopped him and asked him what the problem was. But those weren’t _normal circumstances_ and he let him go because, “Jesus, that kid is crazy as a bedbug”.

And the reason why someone would ask you for money in the middle of the night and then show up the day after with a cut on their throat was that – no doubt – they were in serious trouble with another drug dealer to whom they promised something they didn’t have.

______

In the month of February, Josh concluded that Tyler wasn’t chronically depressed or a schizophrenic, or even a drug dealer. Tyler was just weird.

Once he came to this conclusion, the inquisitive gazes diminished and the housemate seemed to relax much more in his surroundings.

Do not expect me to tell you they started to spend every afternoon together, went out at night, boasted about their sexual performance with some girl or some boy they had gone out with. But at least they started to eat in the same room, and, sometimes, when Josh wasn’t too tired, they would sit on the tiny couch watching TV.

______

But then, one afternoon in May, Josh got home early from work. Apparently, the summer started earlier that year and nobody seemed interested in going out to get anything that wasn’t an air conditioner. His boss had decided to make him leave forty-five minutes early; better than expected.

What he did not expect, however, was to find Tyler wearing only his underwear and wet hair – he had probably just got out of the shower.

What he did not expect was to find himself staring at a butchered body, marked by deep cuts. Everywhere like ants on the remnants of food on the ground. Chest. Stomach. Arms. Inner thighs. Hips.

He stood there, hypnotized by that white cobweb of pain.

«What the fuck are you looking at?»

He didn’t even have time to answer (not that it was his intention, by the way) that Tyler was vanished. Josh guessed he had gone to throw up, judging from the acid smell that was infesting the bathroom.

He should’ve looked for him, ask how he was - as he had been raised to do. He should have. He should have. But Josh was independent now and nobody could tell him what to do, right?

He closed his fly, swallowed the dry heave that threatened him and came out of the bathroom.

In high school, Josh had studied a myth about a woman, Pandora, sent to earth by Zeus to take revenge on humans. Hadn’t he become like Pandora? _He thought. _He had opened that forbidden jar, letting the evil release. But Josh never finished reading the story and he ignored that the maiden, after all the bad she let out, also let the Hope out as well, restoring order to the world.

Who knows, maybe if he had done something – if he had opened that jar once again – he would have solved the situation. However, Tyler wasn’t a magic box, but only a boy.

______

The silence lasted more than they could bear. Not that they had made long conversations before, but now there was a tension as dense as the fog that sometimes covered the streets and erased everything. Josh didn’t know what to talk about anymore. Josh didn’t know _how_ to talk. The fog was suffocating him and clouding his mind. At some point, he thought he _hated_ Tyler. Why couldn’t he live with a normal flatmate? Why did he have to share a fifty-five square metre apartment with a suicidal maniac? Why was Tyler’s skin torn and not like everyone else’s?

But no, Josh wasn’t a heartless asshole. Josh didn’t understand, he couldn’t find a way to cope. Josh was terrified.

______

He was sat on the toilet, staring at nothing – he was so tired that he fell into a trance every time he stopped doing something – when he spotted dried blood on the grout lines of the floor. Josh had moved in that house for six months and he had never noticed it. Maybe he had assumed it was just mold caused by the humidity. It could not be blood if his lodger was just a schizophrenic. It could not be blood if you have only theories and theories in your head. How stupid, stupid, stupid. _You’re stupid._

How much suffering had that bathroom seen, what tearing, silent despair. And the only proof of that pain was stuck between the square tiles, permanent but invisible.

______

Whatever you have to do, you know when it’s time. And the twenty-ninth of July was the right day. Tyler was curled up in a corner of the couch with the television turned on some fishing show, a few men with rubber boots were telling the cameras which were the more efficient baits. Josh didn’t love quartered or mutilated fishes in any particular manner, but he sat down anyway.

«How about we get some pizza tonight?» His voice had come out distorted, like the voice you wake up with, and so unexpected that Tyler flinched.

«I’d like to»

How stupid human beings are, they don’t understand how little is needed to fix everything. It took Josh months to _find a way_ (a way for what, I don’t even know) and within seconds everything returned to normal, just like it used to be.

«By the way, your bedroom still stinks of piss. Are you going to clean it up sometimes or you want me to suffocate?»

«Go fuck yourself, Josh» Tyler grinned without taking his eyes off the screen. They both grinned, but they didn’t know that.

_That night, the two of them began to breathe again._

Josh stayed the same prying son of a bitch, so poor that he couldn’t buy food that wasn’t canned or of a very low-quality. Tyler stayed the same quiet guy who had tried to slit his own throat to silence the ferocity of his thoughts (however, Tyler didn’t know shit about anatomy, and he had no idea the jugular was located on the left, and not on the right).

The train of their lives never switched tracks and certainly it wouldn't have switched now.

I know you were hoping things would end better, somehow, I hoped so too.

But meanwhile, _that night, the two of them began to breathe again._


End file.
